Allegra's Ode to Girls & Women

INTRODUCTION

I am writing this because I am a mother to a baby girl. In a world filled with rigid beauty standards and impossible expectations, I want her to feel safe and confident in the body she lives in. I want her to know that her worth is not measured by the way she looks or how well she fits into someone else’s idea of beauty.

And on the days when she doesn’t feel that confidence—because we all have those days—I want her to remember that she is never alone.

This is my ode to all the girls and women who have felt the sting of unkind mirrors and critical voices. To anyone who has ever wondered if they were enough. May this blog feel like a hug to those who relate and resonate.

CHILDHOOD MEMORIES IN RETROSPECT

When I was a little girl in the Philippines, I loved nothing more than to play outside in the dirt, feeling the warmth of the sun until it darkened my skin and lightened my hair. I would play barefoot with my family’s twenty indigenous Filipino dogs, my hair flowing down to my sacrum like a banner of wild freedom. I was happiest with dirt under my fingernails and the smell of the Earth clinging to me. I marveled at the ferns unfurling in fractal patterns, tracing their gentle curls with my fingers. The raw elements of the Earth are my first Love. I saw so much beauty in the world. But even as a child, the world had already decided what “beautiful” meant, and I didn’t fit in.

BEAUTY STANDARDS AND PRETTY PRIVILEGE

Growing up, our beauty standards in the Philippines emphasized light skin, tall noses, and delicate features as most favourable. We watched Ms. Universe like it was a religious event. Though I hold the art of pageantry with so much respect, I remember school would stop so we could gather around a TV – not to cheer on the contestants, but to pick apart their bodies. I remember being only nine years old and already picking apart my own body with the same learned judgment.

At school, they called me “Allegra negra.” (dark skinned –as if that was so bad) Looking back, I’m sure they only said it because it rhymed, but it burned in my mind that perhaps if I weren’t so “ugly”, the other kids would be nicer to me. I learned to hide instead because I didn’t know how to hold my head high. At fifteen years old, I found a way to purge the meals I ate because I had come to see how differently the world treats those who are seen as “pretty.” The halo effect, where people assume that attractive people are somehow more worthy—kinder, more intelligent, more capable—than the rest of us. This cycle of daily bulimic purging followed me until I was 21. The older I got, the more respect I found for human anatomy and how much beauty there is in the real, lived-in bodies of all of us. More on this later.

WHAT IS BODY DYSMORPHIC DISORDER?

The truth is, even though I overcame my eating disorder, the voice of body dysmorphic disorder (BDD) never left. It is a mental health condition after all. In DSM-5, BDD is classified under “Obsessive-Compulsive and Related Disorders”. Manageable, but not curable. Later in life, I learned that it is hereditary and runs in my family for many generations. Hid in shame, or not relevant enough to bring up. The point is, I know I am not alone in this invisible inner turmoil, so I thought there must be some value in bringing this subject to light and spreading awareness of what it is.

According to the Mayo Clinic,

“Body dysmorphic disorder is a mental health condition in which you can’t stop thinking about one or more perceived defects or flaws in your appearance — a flaw that appears minor or can’t be seen by others. But you may feel so embarrassed, ashamed, and anxious that you may avoid many social situations.”

How do I live with this almost obsessive, trivial fear of my physical appearance?

FOOD AS MEDICINE

One of the ways I’ve begun to heal my relationship with my body is through food—not as punishment, not as control, but reframing it as medicine.

There was a time in my life when food felt like the enemy. It was something I feared, something I tried to restrict, manipulate, or subtract. But now, especially as a breastfeeding mother, I see food for what it truly is: a form of love. A direct line between the earth and my body and connecting with the other. A sacred offering that sustains not just my physical form but my Spirit – and now, my baby.

Food is not just what we put on our plates—it’s the way we nourish our immune and nervous system, our hormones, our emotions, our creativity. It’s a practice of devotion to ourselves.

It’s not about perfection. It’s not about rules. It’s about listening. To trust in your cravings as part of your intuition, telling you what your body needs.

Your intuition is your animal instinct. It is there for your survival.

So if you’ve ever felt at war with food, I hope this gives you permission to come back home to your body. To approach food as a sacred way to care for yourself. To eat like how you feed someone you love. To trust the intelligence of your body, and of the plants and minerals that are here to support it.

A big inspiration has been “The Moonjuice Cookbook” written by Moonjuice founder, Amanda Chantall Bacon. She highlights how her mission is to create a space where people can enjoy the beauty and artistry of food while also gaining access to its medicinal powers. How health food is not just for the perfect vegan yogi, but also for those who eat with abandon, looking for something cleansing. Wherever you may be in your relationship with food, it is a tool to optimize the life and body you are traveling this plane in.

RETURNING TO THE BEAUTY OF NATURE

As BDD is a challenge I still face every day, I always prompt myself to remember the innocence of my childhood – not a care for the world’s standards and conformity.

Here’s what I’ve discovered on this journey: The same world that taught me to hate my body also holds the power to help me love it.

I return to nature. I embody the little girl who ran with dogs, who was covered in mud and fascinated by the ferns.

A beautiful girl dancing on the beach in siargao

I try to see the patterns in nature’s imperfections as mirrors of my own. My stretch marks are ripples in the water. The birthmark on my forehead is a leaf turning red in the fall. My skin, my scars, my curves—all of it is part of nature’s poetry.

a beautiful collage of stretch marks after birth, waves, desert sand

In the same way that a fern leaf unfurls into recurring fractal patterns, the human cells regenerate in such art and intricacy. The tissue in your toenail knows to be a toenail, and not to be an eyeball. It just is. Beautiful Divine design.

GOING DEEPER: PHYSIO AND PILATES IN SIARGAO

As a physical therapist in Siargao, I spend my days working with bodies—every size, every shape, every story. My job has made me hyper-aware of every nuance of my own form. My scoliosis, my posture, muscular imbalance or asymmetry, how my body flares up when I eat certain foods. Some days, I still feel the weight of those old judgments. But more and more, I’m in awe of what my body can do. I marvel at the incredible harmony of our systems: our muscles, our organs, our hormones, bones, and even the smallest cell, each one knowing exactly what it’s meant to do.

And perhaps most transformative of all, I found strength and confidence through the power of the female body. Having experienced creation in my own womb. Ten months of pregnancy and an unmedicated birth that cracked me open – it showed me what my body was truly capable of. Now, I’m seven months into breastfeeding, nourishing my baby with my very own body. My body has carried me, and it has carried (and continues to carry) life.

MY AFFIRMATIONS FOR YOU

If you’re reading this and your own body feels like a stranger to you, I want to offer a gentle reminder: You are not alone. Your body is not your enemy. It’s your home, your story, the vessel of your Spirit. There is strength in surrender. Recognize the feelings and judgement you are fighting, you cannot perform alchemy without knowing the elements you are working with.

Here are some words I return to whenever I feel lost:

My body is my partner in this life, not a battleground.
I am a living, breathing piece of nature.
My scars, my marks, my softness, and my strength resemble and are part of the very Earth that I love so much
I give myself permission to rest, to move, to nourish, and to love this vessel that carries me.

If you find yourself comparing your body to someone else’s, remember this: The Earth doesn’t ask a river to be a mountain or a mountain to be a tree. Nature celebrates diversity because it’s what makes this world so breathtaking. You, too, are part of that wild, beautiful tapestry.

I hope you find comfort in knowing that healing isn’t about erasing the past—it’s about returning to the parts of yourself that always knew how to feel free. It’s about letting yourself be a little wild, a little messy, and a lot more you.Unique.

So today, go outside. Observe ripples of water, the texture of a leaf, or the roughness of tree bark. Recognize that you bear resemblance and are one with it all.